


vulnerability; sensitivity

by starrylitme



Category: Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Consent Issues, Established Relationship, Frottage, Insecurity, M/M, Self-Hatred, Somnophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-11
Updated: 2015-09-11
Packaged: 2018-04-20 06:18:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4776752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starrylitme/pseuds/starrylitme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was easy to read someone like him, even on a first meeting. It was easy to tell what kind of person he was—which is why it made sense people flocked to him so easily. He was simple, but also attentive to the concerns of others, and more reliable than that initial impression implied. Honestly, Komaeda considered him to be...</p>
<p>...worrying.</p>
<p>Easy to take advantage of.</p>
<p><em>Especially</em> when he was resting out in the open like this, when any reasonable person would have been fast asleep in their cottages by now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	vulnerability; sensitivity

**Author's Note:**

> I have a thing about somnophilia so it's a wonder why I haven't written it with these two yet. So I finally did. With a healthy (unhealthy) dose of self-deprecation.
> 
> But at this point, with these two in particular, you'd expect that much, wouldn't you?

The sight of Hinata sleeping on the couch of the lobby isn’t as surprising as it should be. Even though he is surprisingly graceless about it, sprawled on his back against the cushions, arm dangling over the edge.

He doesn’t look comfortable. And if not for his lack of upper arm strength, Komaeda would have carried him to the appropriate room on his own. Or his own room, maybe. Though perhaps their classmates would have a few issues with that.

...Their classmates. Oh. _Hinata-kun’s probably exhausted from the work everyone’s having him do. Maybe he did even more work on top of it today. It wouldn’t surprise me._

It wouldn’t surprise him at all, knowing how Hinata was.

It was easy to read someone like him, even on a first meeting. It was easy to tell what kind of person he was—which is why it made sense people flocked to him so easily. He was simple, but also attentive to the concerns of others, and more reliable than that initial impression implied. Honestly, Komaeda considered him to be...

...worrying.

Easy to take advantage of.

_Especially_ when he was resting out in the open like this, when any reasonable person would have been fast asleep in their cottages by now.

Though there’s always quite a few of them up at night, be it Ibuki practicing to the chagrin of others, Nanami playing various video games, last minute training by Owari... Not to mention there was also the case of himself, where he wanted to take a late night stroll because there was always something so calming about the island’s starlit night sky.

There was something about the sight of Hinata sleeping that put him on edge for some reason—maybe he was worried about what could happen? A nightmare, the brunet flipping over and falling flat on his face, maybe suffocating or freezing to death in his sleep...

_He’s so careless at times after all..._ Komaeda mused, noting that Hinata had only partially undone his tie. Reaching out, he loosened and undid the rest himself, tugging the smooth fabric from around his neck and setting it on the table _. It’s not like he’ll even sleep well if he’s still this dressed up._

_...I can get him a blanket from my room since I can’t carry him. I can at least make him comfortable..._

Idly, he fiddles with the first button on the brunet’s shirt. That shirt’s always been pulled taut over his chest, said chest rising and falling with the other’s breathing, and warmth emanates from him like a furnace. It’s because Komaeda had just been outside, and it was a rather chilly night. That’s all.

_He really is a little too warm though..._ He presses that button through and out of its slit, tugging the fabric apart, pausing with gray-green pools locked onto the reveal of skin a healthier tint darker than his own, the smooth masculine lines of his neck and clavicle... Hinata may not have been like Owari or Nidai, but he exercised diligently in ways that made the two proud.

Komaeda had noticed, though, that Hinata did seem to have a bit of insecurity when dealing with his body. Probably saw himself as too awkward and stocky, a bit unbalanced perhaps. But he kept up a healthy diet and exercise routine all the same. Admirable, when Komaeda couldn’t be bothered to do that much a lot of the time—he’d been scolded for such numerous times, even by Hinata himself.

Well, such things mattered little to _him_ —it’s not like this frail body of his would last for that much longer regardless. Still, others and Hinata thought differently... Hinata, for some reason, saw something worthwhile in him—something that should be taken care of.

_But the thing is..._

Wetting his fingertips with quick swipes of his tongue, Komaeda deftly undid the rest of those buttons to further reveal a thicker torso and abdomen. Part of him wonders if there are scars littering this part of Hinata’s body, like with his own, but from generic accidents rather than a merciless luck cycle.

Under his cold fingers trailing down that throat to that sternum, Hinata shivers, sighing, and then...

“Nanami...” he groans, and Komaeda recognized the exasperation, “You have to stop...this isn’t a video game...”

_I think... Hinata-kun is the one that’s far too vulnerable._

There’s just enough room to worm his way over the other, tucking his knee between Hinata’s side and the cushion, steadying himself with a grip on the top of the couch. It should be more awkward than it is, but he hardly minds, especially when he’s pulling the flaps of that dress shirt further apart, exposing the brunet’s chest to the crisp air.

_Hinata-kun is sensitive in a lot of ways..._ It’s clear from the way he shudders when Komaeda licks a line up his chest, skin warm against his tongue with no real flavor. Hinata moans even under _his_ subpar hands, massaging the skin of his pectorals, flicking his nipples, which were hardening almost instantly under Komaeda’s cold touch. _Hinata-kun makes this way too easy for someone like me._

It was dangerous, the things Hinata would let him do, and even this could hardly compare. Just the act of getting close in _general_ —because Hinata always takes him places on the different islands not just for work, even though the chances of something going wrong always rack up so high each and every time. It’s careless. He resents that about him more than he appreciates it.

And then there’s  _this_ kind of thing.

It’s far too simple. Hinata responds so easily to his touches, especially to his mouthing against the other’s neck and jawline and most especially to the motions of pressing his rump up against the other’s groin. Instinctively, Hinata’s even pressing back, making a low, still sleep-heavy sound, and Komaeda sees how his fingers, even the dangling ones, twitch.

If the others could see him, they’d immediately tear him off. Call him wretched. Perverse. _Sick_. They’d be correct. If Hinata saw him— _well_. Maybe he’d get shoved off all the same. But Hinata would never demean him with words—he was blunt to the point it could hurt at times, but Hinata was never, ever cruel even to those who deserved it. Even to someone like him...

Hinata saw him as someone he had to take _care_ of. He was like that with _everyone_. Komaeda had known for the longest time he’d never be someone special to someone else. That was too much to want—he’s content just with the few choice moments he gets with those he likes, and that he’s not just the only one enjoying those moments anyway. Hinata smiles a lot when they’re together, they both have fun together, and that alone is more than enough.

_This isn’t just having fun though. This is disgusting indulgence._ He knows this, especially when Hinata’s breathing breaks into a soft whine when Komaeda shifts to focus his weight onto that groin. Watching Hinata's earlier calmer albeit flushed expression twists into frustration, and feeling his hips jerk back against Komaeda. Feeling the stiffened, heated lump of his cock chafing and straining against Hinata's jeans pushing hard into his rear, earning a soft, breathless gasp of his own. _Gluttony at its worst—you’re gross, so_ gross _, if Hinata-kun didn’t want this, you’d be worse than garbage—_

**_But it’s not like this is entirely for Hinata-kun,_ is _it, when he’s_ sleeping _, you despicable piece of—_**

“... _gi_ to... Oh, god, _Nagito_...” Hinata’s hand against the cushion was clenched tight enough that it looked like it was about to break. Thoughtlessly, Komaeda reached out to pry that hand open, and the second his fingers pressed through his grip, Hinata laced them with his own, holding tightly to the point of nearly being painful. That dangling hand found its way onto his hip, squeezing as if to ascertain his presence. But Hinata’s eyes were still shut, locked onto a surely different image of the thing panting and rubbing up against him like some animal in heat. “Nagito, _please_...”

_...What kind of image is it?_ Komaeda can’t help but wonder how Hinata dreams him. Something pleading, maybe, mewling pathetically in its desperation, pulling itself close with little regard for anything else... Except Hinata was the one pleading, and continued pleading, pulling him closer, sighing out his given name like a prayer.

“Nagito,” he almost murmurs the word fondly, sending shivers up the other’s spine, rocking back into him, gripping his hip tightly, too... Komaeda wondered if it’d bruise; if it bruising was something Hinata wanted.

Probably not, knowing him. Knowing how sensitive he was. Hinata _hated_ hurting others, even when others wouldn’t hesitate. Even though Komaeda didn’t hesitate either in saying something that could make Hinata falter, frown, and then have to force his otherwise easy, now pained grin.

He upsets Hinata easily. This would most likely upset him, too, taking advantage of this vulnerable state, pressing and pressing until one of them loses it, and only barely suppressing shameful, contemptible noises as he does so. It’d be easy to be disgusted.

It’s disgusting, the way Hinata moans his name as he dreams, all while he and those dreams are manipulated by his despicable touch. It’s sickening. _It’s sick._

“Hinata-kun,” The whisper is harsh, high-pitched, hot against Hinata's ear and making him shiver underneath. He really shouldn’t have expected that, and he really shouldn’t have went on, harsher, higher, “Hinata-kun, I _need_ you.”

“Mngh...”

“Please. Please, Hinata-kun, _please_... I feel so empty without you— _without you here_. I c-can’t take it any _more_.” It’s pathetic enough that it almost stings his tongue to say—but then Hinata digs his fingers into his hip, his exhale coming out sharp, and he seizes up, shivering, and—“ _Hinata-kun_...”

Komaeda presses back, hard and with a weak whimper escaping his lips, puffing against the shell of his ear, breaking into a whine as his fingers dug into the other’s shoulder, “Hajime... _kun_...!”

Hinata gasps, and just...releases. It’s damp against him, sticky, he’s sure, and he knows that tight whisper that escaped those lips beforehand was a slur of the syllables making up his name. He’s panting, still sitting on the mess he’s made— _of a SHSL, of **Hinata-kun** , and Hinata-kun is _**just** —

Hinata’s drooling, snoring loudly, breathing a lot steadier, completely unmoved in his slumber. If anything, he looks satisfied as he sighs and his head lolls into the cushion. Komaeda stares, roaming his gaze from that expression to the still exposed chest and abdomen, how he can see that chest rise with each inhale.

“...You’re going to sleep on like that when you’ll no doubt wake up cold and uncomfortable?” he asks quietly, once again noting the warmth radiating from Hinata but remaining still. In comparison, Komaeda felt chill nip at his skin through even the layers of fabric. Rather than any sick, twisted of satisfaction, he felt _empty_.

_As I should. Hinata-kun’s not awake, so this was completely meaningless. Pointless. As expected from such a stupid,_ sickening _waste of space such as—_

“It’s going to bruise,” Komaeda muttered, carefully prying that hand from his hip. His heart stutters a bit when Hinata makes an unhappy sound, but gathers that hand in his own all the same, and Hinata remains calm, simply breathes.

Komaeda separates their hands, instead returning Hinata’s hands to lie over this chest, snorting in amusement when they thoughtlessly lace together, either as a form of compensation or to further resemble...

“Sleeping beauty,” he says, pressing that chin up to shut his mouth and wiping that stream of drool away with his thumb, thoughtlessly bringing that thumb up and licking it off as he went on, “really shouldn’t be so graceless, don’t you think, Hinata-kun?”

Hinata barely groans, and with a wince, Komaeda finally pushes himself off. It’s uncomfortable and cold—but his pants probably aren’t stained. He wasn’t the one who came, after all, and Hinata’s front was indeed stained, embarrassingly.

Sex was like that, sometimes, but instead of laughing like he wanted to, that void in his chest just grew wider, frayed edges stinging. Komaeda did shift though, slipping his green jacket down his shoulders before laying it over the brunet, both to cover the stain and as a makeshift cover until...

“I’ll be quick, getting to my cottage and back,” he said, reaching out to fondly ruffle those brown spikes, sighing when Hinata thoughtlessly pressed back into his touch with a sigh of his own. “Hinata-kun, I don’t think my bad luck will kick in, so I’m not worried.”

_But I shouldn’t press it. I shouldn’t. Just_ **leave** _—pick up your feet and leave, leave, **leave** —_

Komaeda leaned in, pressing a kiss to Hinata’s dry, parted lips. A quick one, but one he’d be fine with ruining himself later for, and with a smile, he wishes the other well before going on his way.

* * *

“Hinata-kun.”

Hinata twitched, features pinching up a bit uncomfortably before settling back and...

“Hinata-kun. You really should get back to your room.”

Hazel eyes fluttered open, focused on Komaeda looming over him, expression curious but quickly smiling cheerfully once his vision cleared. “Good morning, Hinata-kun. I take it you slept well after all?”

“Nn... Komaeda... Why are you in my...?” Komaeda was already shaking his head as he pushed himself up, slowly registering the feel of the cushions, and the blankets, and blinking drearily when he realized, “Oh. I must have fallen asleep in the lobby instead. My bad.”

Komaeda giggled. “You really should be more careful. Though, ah, that is quite the rewarding sight for waking up early today. Thank you, Hinata-kun.”

“Thank...?” Hinata looked down at his still open shirt and made a decidedly not very masculine squeak as he yanked his shirt shut, hurriedly redoing each button a bit messily. He actually missed one of the slits, but Komaeda said nothing about that as he watched Hinata’s face further pale, probably realizing...

It was like he stilled completely, internal panic written all over his face and the quick glance he stole under the sheets confirmed he must have noticed by now. Komaeda’s smile strained a bit, but Hinata didn’t notice that, instead slumping and clearly mentally deliberating on the best course of action now that he was in this situation.

“No one’s awake yet,” Komaeda said simply, laugh airy. “The morning announcement isn’t for a while so if you want to hurry back to your cottage, you’ll be fine. Your cottage is close to the lobby after all.”

“Uh, yeah... I, uh, should...” He wasn’t moving. The reason was obvious. “Komaeda, why are you up so early?”

“Difficulty sleeping.” Komaeda kept his smile as wide as ever. Even when Hinata furrowed his brow and frowned in obvious worry. “I’m here to grab a snack before returning to my own cottage, actually. So don’t mind me. I’ll get going, so...”

“Is everything...alright, Komaeda?”

“Ah, well, it’s as fine as it can be! Like I said, Hinata-kun, don’t mind me.” Waving him off, he headed towards the stairs. “Anyway, I’d hurry. Who knows when Owari-san and Nidai-kun decide to start their morning exercises? Not to mention Mioda-san can be quite the early bird sometimes!”

“I...guess...” Hinata was trailing off, but then, as Komaeda’s back was turned, he suddenly called out, “Wait, Komaeda!!”

Komaeda didn’t turn around, answering all the same, “Yes, Hinata-kun?”

“These... These sheets are yours, aren’t they? They’re from someone’s cottage, and unless Usami grabbed them from mine...” Hinata went quiet again, and then asked, almost timidly, “Did you, uh...witness something or...?”

It was as though he was moving on his own, spinning back around on his heel and walking right back up to his couch-ridden classmate, still looking flustered and staring uncertainly at his sheets, and Komaeda had already removed his jacket again, offering it.

“Komaeda...?”

“There’s a tear. On the sleeve.” His smile didn’t even twitch. “Can you fix it, Hinata-kun? I’m sorry for imposing you on this first thing in the morning but...”

“No, it’s fine. Uh, no problem.” Hinata took it from his hands, squeezing the fabric uncertainly, and then, his expression changed. “You definitely know then, huh? You might even have something to _do_ with it.”

Komaeda’s expression remained. Just that same, sad smile that had Hinata’s grip tightening. Hinata did look at him, narrowing his expectant gaze, and then...

“You can resent me, if you like. It’ll be a relief if you do.”

“Don’t say ridiculous things like that with such a relaxed smile.” Hinata sighed heavily. “Komaeda, you’re just...”

_Ridiculous. Wretched. Hopeless. Disgusting, despicable, disturbing, dreadful—just_ awful _to be around—you’re too much to put up with, I wonder why I even bother—_

“Worrying.” Hinata’s frown deepened and then, “You really worry me sometimes.”

_I wonder why bother._

“I’m...not what you should worry about now.” Komaeda turned back around, shrugging his shoulders. “As I said, you want to _hurry_ , right?” He caught how Hinata stiffened, flustering all over again, and his lips pulled into a smirk as he gestured towards the door with his hand. “I should hurry, as well, seeing as I want to get some rest in before the others wake. Later today, Hinata-kun. Later today.”

Hinata wasn’t saying anything so this time Komaeda was able to head up the stairs undeterred, skipping a step every now and then. Except once he reached the top, he paused, listening in, and heard the telltale stomping of Hinata quickly leaving and slamming the door behind him.

It’ll be fine. It was early enough.

But Hinata would still be on edge—still panicking and humiliated by the situation, and likely, he’d curse him behind those closed doors. Komaeda almost makes it a habit of frustrating him and he could only wonder when the time came that Hinata decided he had enough but...

Later today, it’ll go about the same as what he’s sadly learned to expect. Hinata will return his jacket—either by handing it over or chucking it at his face depending on how deeply that irritation ran—and Komaeda will accept either with the same smile, only faltering when he notes that the tear he didn’t in fact lie about, was sloppily sewn shut all the same. And that, most likely, Hinata would have washed it for him too in the meantime, because he usually did whenever Komaeda handed his jacket over.

He really didn’t need to. Unless the scent stuck on that thing was really _that_ unbearable.

Hinata always liked to nuzzle in close. To press close and just deeply breathe in. If he had gotten too close to that sleeping Hinata, he might have been pulled in to the point that he wouldn’t have been able to leave. And he still pushed it—murmuring into the other’s ear and making it far too easy for the situation to escalate even further.

“...Hah...”

His legs felt a bit wobbly to the point where he needed to sit. So he did, plopping himself down onto one of those steps, digging his palms into one of the many jagged edges, and sighing all the while.

“Hajime-kun...” Hinata’s given name was soft to say, sweet to taste, and it stung. It stung sharply and painfully to the point just saying it made him shiver involuntarily. He shouldn’t. He really, really shouldn’t either way.

“Hajime-kun.” He said, and then again, “Hajime-kun, _Hajime-kun_.”

He was already shaking to the point where he had to wrap his arms tightly around himself. Pitiful compensation, of course, and compared to Hinata—when Hinata held him against that warm, solid body of his—there had always been something there. There’s never been anything in _this_ —him holding himself together—because it always felt like he was just slipping through his own fingers. Along with everything else.

But it’s not like Hinata keeps him perfectly in place either. Hinata _can’t_ keep him together, but... Hinata does keep his mind off things. Hateful things. Despairing things. All _those_ contemptible things that creep along the back of his mind and end up however momentarily chased away by the very _his_ radiance.

“Hajime-kun...”

That didn’t mean it no longer hurt. It did. But this kind of pain was far more bearable. He preferred it. He was really—

Pathetic. Pitiful. It’s a wonder why **he** _bothered_.

Stilling, digging his fingers into the cold, bare skin of his arms, Komaeda flickered his stare to where he could still see his tossed away sheets bunched up on the couch. He wondered if they were still warm. He should wash them.

They should still smell like _him_. Komaeda could savor that first—and wouldn’t _that_ be par the pathetic course. What’s the point anymore? He might as well further ruin everything that’s his own. It’s a wonder Usami keeps insisting that he’s not, in fact, less than garbage. Hinata insists that too. As do a few of his classmates. They’re all too kind.

It’s a wonder none of them had died yet—that Usami’s so keen to protecting them. All of them. As though they were all worthy of her protection—when some of them are so much weaker than others, when some of them are so much weaker _to_ those others.

_“You worry me sometimes.”_

Eyes blankly locked onto those sheets, he thought again of Hajime, a sleeping image that would still smile at him while awake, the groan of his given name on Hajime’s lips, never going away even if he attempted to kiss it off. Tapping his fingers against his arm rather than biting his nails in like before, he snorted.

“Hajime-kun is so— _ridiculous_.”  Teeth gritted, he heaved out a heavy sigh. “Just _how_ is someone like that going to be a symbol of hope someday? In a situation where we had to kill each other, what would he even _do_?”

_But maybe he wouldn’t be so helpless then. In a situation like **that**._

Smile slipping across his lips, he pushed himself up, reminding himself that he needed to eat and—well, he should retrieve his sheets too, maybe wash them, but maybe not before—tugging on the rail, he made his way back up those stairs.

Hajime still on his mind, that bright image suddenly morphed into something else—something darker that had him pause, fingers twitching as he gripped tighter on the railing. Then, shaking his head, he brushed the thought off and pulled himself the rest of the way up.


End file.
